Revelations of Doom

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Revelations of Doom Page 7

by Jedidiah Behe


  The Commanders eyes shifted at the last remark and Thaluzont knew the true intent of his heart. Lust could be one of the greatest motivators, and aside from power, it was Thaluzont's favorite.

  "Very well, instruct your men to lower their weapons and open the city gates. Tonight we feast, for tomorrow when we wake from our drunken stupor, we will be one nation, and we will conquer all that stands before us!"

  Thaluzont's men let out a roar as they raised their fists in the air. He was not surprised to see that many of the Oharnian men started cheering along. Men were quick to submit to the promise of conquest. The desire to destroy and rule burns strong in their hearts. His Master told him the truth of this. He heard a scream and turned to see that the commander had already ordered the princess dragged out of her room. The man had her by the hair now and was leading her toward his quarters. He wasted no time fulfilling his dream of conquest.

  Thaluzont walked up to the highest rampart of the city palace. He looked toward the great forest at the southernmost border of Oharna, the border they shared with Vorea. This was the final staging ground. Vorea was the mightiest kingdom in all of Los. The great city boasted walls that where fifty feet high and twelve feet wide. Their force was made up of the most skilled warriors in the land. Thaluzont let a small smile cross his lips, knowing there wasn't anyone around him to see it. Vorea would fall to his horde. No kingdom had ever amassed an army like his, the army of Lord Thaluzont, soon, the army of Los. And he would name himself Emperor Thaluzont. The thought almost made his smile widen, but he heard someone approaching. He turned to see general Tavar, standing before him with his head bowed low.

  "Lord Thaluzont, the city is yours. My Lord’s greatness will soon be known to all of Los."

  "Save the groveling for the women, you are a warrior in my army." Thaluzont smiled to himself at the sight of Tavar visibly shaking. It pleased him that his second in command feared him so. "Now be gone, and begin with the preparations for the assault on Vorea. You have two months general, to finish the construction of the war machines. You will have all the lumber you need from the forest to the south."

  "Yes Lord, as you command it."

  "What of the assassins, have they been dispatched?"

  "Yes Lord, they were dispatched after the raid on Passone as per your command."

  "Very good. If they succeed, and they had better, or die trying, then the southern tribes will be in shambles. With no one to lead them, they will crumble under our might."

  "Yes Lord Thaluzont, the assassins know their duty, they will kill their marks or die trying."

  Thaluzont heard the insistent call of his Master. "You are free to go General. Begin the preparations." He watched as his General clamored down the stairs of the rampart, his armor plates slapping together. When he was out of sight, Thaluzont gave in to the quiet voice. He turned and looked to the north, gazing over his army that spread across the desert plains. A deafening roar rose up in recognition of their leader.

  Between Dream and Darkness

  Lucian looked upon the temple from above and wondered at its size and magnificence, but all that was lost when he noticed the thousands upon thousands of people that knelt at its base in worship of some unseen God. He knew right away that it was not the Great Father that they gave reverence to, but something vastly more evil. As he looked closer he could see wicked looking winged creatures perched along the top of the tower, laughing and drooling as they pointed at the multitude below. He wanted nothing more than to help these people but he felt suspended, unable to do anything but watch as flames seemed to sprout from the ground beneath their feet and slowly envelope the masses.

  He screamed out but could not hear his own voice over the horrid sound of those thousands wallowing in pain as their flesh was seared from their bones. Just then a figure materialized at the top of the tower that even made the demons cower. Lucian stared at this most vile of beings, unable to look away. He shook in fear as the creature turned its dragon like head to look at him. When those eyes met his, eyes that held thousands of tormented souls, he felt his life slipping from him. It was as if his very soul was being pulled into those eyes. He tried to scream but could not, and for what purpose? There was no one around that could help him. He had never felt so alone and forsaken. Dread and hopelessness crept into his heart and he started to let go of his spirit, giving in to the evil force that pulled at him. He could hear the beast laughing as the drum of his heart echoed slower and slower around him. His body turned numb and the cold started to creep in.

  †††

  Lucian woke in a daze, his body felt as though it were on fire. He lifted his arm to wipe his wet matted hair off his face and winced at the pain in his side. He was covered in a blanket and was naked beneath it. He realized that he was sweating profusely. He let out a long breath, relieved to be out of the horrible nightmare that was still burned vividly in his mind. Unlike any dream he had ever had before, he could remember every minute detail, and it sickened him. But it was only that, a dream. He tried to believe that as he concentrated on pushing the vision from his memory and get back to reality. The world spun as he tried to think of what had happened and where he was. At first he thought he was still wet from the rainstorm, the rainstorm where he found his parents dead.

  Coherence shot through him like lighting. He tried to sit up but the intense lash of pain that shot through his body, generating from his side, dropped him back down where he lay. He blinked away the haze in his eyes as he peered around the room he was in, trying to get a bearing for where he was.

  It was dark inside, and there was a musty, mildew smell to it. It was a small hut. He didn't think it even high enough for him to stand straight up. A small bit of light was leaking in from around the sides of a leather skin that covered a small portal. The hut itself was made of small sticks and reeds woven tightly together. It was shelter enough from the weather, but he could tell it was not meant to be a used for a human. He felt the ground around himself, it was covered with straw. That explained the small pricks he felt along his back and legs.

  His mind went to his dead parents again, his murdered parents. How did he get here? He tried to concentrate on what had happened. The last thing he remembered was those eyes, those deadly blue eyes. He remembered charging the man that told him about his delight in killing his parents. He never saw what happened. How the man had snatched him and spun him around. He moved with unbelievable speed. Lucian remembered suddenly being choked from behind, and then feeling a tremendous pain shoot through his side as a knife sliced in through his ribs.

  "Eliath!" he yelled, as if the moment playing back in his mind was happening again.

  He remembered seeing his friend charging in at the man, screaming. He felt himself hurtling through the air as he was tossed aside effortlessly. Before he passed out, he remembered looking up and seeing those evil blue eyes, staring at Eliath as he charged in. Those eyes seemed to be smiling.

  Lucian tried to rise again but his body felt numb. He could barely move his legs.

  The leather flap flung open, spilling bright light into the small hut, blinding him. He brought his arm up painfully, to shield his eyes.

  "Lucian, you’re awake! It's about time. I thought you were going to sleep my entire life away."

  The familiar voice brought a smile to Lucian's face. "Eli. Thank the Father you’re alive. I thought you might have died at the hands of that evil man."

  Eliath let out a dramatic harrumph, "Well then how do you suppose you would have come to be in this place if I were dead?"

  Despite the pain it caused, Lucian couldn't help but chuckle. "It's good to hear your voice my friend."

  Eliath gently eased Lucian back down. "You have been in and out of consciousness. It is good that you are awake now, but you still need your rest. You took on a fever from being out in that storm for so long. I guess your body couldn't fight the cold and the injury you took all at once."

  "So you killed the assassin, who was it? Where di
d-"

  Eliath cut him off. "Quiet now, get a little rest, and let your fever lift. Then I will tell you all I can."

  Lucian’s head started to spin and he settled back down into his straw bed. No matter how strongly he desired to stand and discover the mystery of his parents’ murder, he just didn’t have the strength. He rested his head back down, closed his eyes, and instantly fell asleep.

  †††

  Eliath looked over his friend and sighed. He knew that when Lucian was revived from his rest, that it would be no easy task keeping him from going mad about the murder of his parents. He hoped that he would not have to explain too much about what had happened. But as soon as the hope entered his mind he quickly dismissed it. He knew Lucian. The man would stop at nothing to find out the truth.

  Eliath stepped out of the hut and scanned the fields and forest around the small farm where he had brought Lucian. He had been carrying Lucian away from his home where their parents had been murdered, and came across this plot. He told the old farmer that his friend had been injured on a hunt and that they needed a shelter to get out of the rain and asked if they might stay in his barn for the night. The farmer had looked suspicious of the two men, and told Eliath that they couldn’t stay in his barn because he didn't want his wife finding them there in the morning, but they could stay inside the small hut that he sometimes kept the calves in. He told them not to worry about it being dirty, that he had just cleaned it before the rains started. He had to pay the old man a couple coppers to let them stay another night because Lucian had come down with a fever and would not wake.

  He was happy that they would not have to stay yet another night. As soon as Lucian revived they would have to go into town and tell his brother of what happened. That is if Eolic hasn't already paid a visit to the house and discovered the truth himself. Even more disturbing was only what Eliath himself had seen, a fallen one, intent on killing Lucian. He knew that the man had not come to kill only the parents. That was only a means to an end. The true target had been Lucian. Banrael had said that his task was complete after he thought he had surely killed him.

  A small smile came over Eliath’s lips as he thought of his fallen brother being brought before the Father and judged. That was the worse fate for one of his evil kin. There was no greater torment than to be brought before the Father's sight after betraying him. A shiver ran through his body and he turned pale at the thought of his near failure.

  If Lucian had died-

  His thoughts trailed off to the unknown.

  The Stone Lion

  The assassin slipped from shadow to shadow along a maze of corridors within the vast castle that was built into the side of the Barodine Mountains. Blood trickled off his fingertips, slowed by the tight strip of cloth he had tied around his upper arm, just above a wound.

  His name was Adrian, and he had come here with three other men, all assassins of his guild, with one mission; kill the royal family of the Ortsk. His three cohorts had all died attempting to enter the stronghold. The defenses these people had set in place were like nothing he could have imagined or trained for. The castle sat high in the mountains surrounded by sheer cliffs with jagged rocks below. It offered very few narrow passes leading to it.

  Two of his fellow assassins had died coming through one such pass. A station of seven guards set up in the middle of the pass, baited any attacker into missing the two pockets of five advanced guard on either side. As he and the other three came upon the station of guards thinking it a quick and easy kill, they were ambushed. Only he and one other escaped the well-planned defense. They had skillfully cut down fifteen of the guards but after their two comrades had fallen, he and the other assassin raced off, losing the guards in the shadows and crevices of the mountains. They had split to avoid capture easier. Adrian knew he was the only one still alive when he came across the third assassin impaled on a post outside of the furthermost gate to the castle. They must have caught him while trying to find a way in.

  Adrian was the most skilled of the four assassins, and had found an entrance into the castle. Now he crept along the dark interior walls, nearly invisible. He was truly a master of the shadows, he was in his element. The dark passageways and many intersecting halls were ideal for his trade. Like a dark cloud of death he floated down another hallway, avoiding contact, not wanting to leave any dead bodies that would be found and alert the guard of his location. Sometimes an hour would pass with him moving only several feet. Progress was slow. He was well trained on the basic structures and layouts of castles and palaces. Most were built in a similar manner and it wasn't hard to figure out where to find those of importance. This castle however, was amazing in its design of defense. The labyrinth of halls made it difficult to know what direction you were heading. They were all cut the same, with no identifying features that would help in their navigation. But Adrian was not without his wit. He used small dashes of chalk to mark the hallways he had been down. It didn't take long before he found himself out of the maze of halls and into an area with larger rooms, one of which must have been the dining hall. And then he found what he was looking for.

  What could only be the council chamber was a large rectangular shaped room. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high. Huge stone pillars lined the walls around the room, stretching from ceiling to floor. The stone walls had intricate designs carved in them as well as the pillars. It had to be the best sculpting work he had ever seen. A long, thick wooden table stretched the length of the room almost twenty yards. The table looked to be carved by the same hands that had done the stone walls. It was simply beautiful. At the back of the room was an elevated platform where seven stone steps led up to a massive marble chair, a throne. The arms were carved to look like legs of a beast, a lion, he discovered, when he looked to the backrest. It was carved into a huge head of a lion. It was quite impressive. One who sat in the seat would have the appearance of sitting in the cradle of the mighty beast.

  The king’s chambers were generally close to the council room. He was close.

  There was the slightest noise that came from the hallway outside. Adrian slipped over to the back corner of the room, melding into the shadows. He waited, mentally scolding himself for letting the beauty and craftsmanship of the room capture his attention so. He heard no other sounds coming from the hall, but he needed to check and make sure. He moved to the doorway and slid across, checking each end of the hall as much as he could see. There was no one, unless they were standing flat against the inside wall where he wouldn't have been able to see them. The only way to check was to enter the hall. He certainly wasn't going to simply stick his head out there for a look. No, that was a good way to get one’s head lopped off. He calmed himself and with a vipers speed, he leapt out into the hallway landing on his hands and rolling to a crouch against the far wall. The movement was executed perfectly. Not the faintest sound could be heard. After a quick glance confirming there was no one in the hall he slipped back into the room.

  His stomach lurched.

  Icy prickles ran all over his skin. He thought he was seeing things at first.

  A man was sitting on the throne that he had just been admiring, and was staring at him with not even the slightest bit of concern. His first instinct was to turn and run but something told him that he would not survive that venture.

  The man sat in the large chair with a look of complete calm. It was just as he had envisioned it. He looked to be sitting in the cradle of a mighty lion, and by his casual appearance, it was as if he actually thought the lion would protect him. But Adrian did not fall for the guise. He quickly appraised the man’s skill by his outfit.

  He wore no armor and carried no weapons, except for two ornately jeweled gauntlets that protected him from fingertip to elbow. The backs of his hands were covered with a thick steel slab that stretched from his wrist just past the knuckles. It was secured by a leather strap that wrapped around the hand and there was a joint at the wrist. At the end of the steel plate above the knuckles ros
e three short, thick, squared spikes. Three larger squared spikes ran up the middle of each forearm plate. The brightly polished steel was rimmed with fine gold. There were small, intricate designs etched into the gauntlets and filled with gold. The assassin marveled at the fine craftsmanship. He had seen lesser pieces selling in markets for a small fortune.

  The man wore robes that were cut from what must have been an extremely expensive cloth. But the assassin took note in the design of the outfit. It was obvious that this man used his entire body as a weapon. His tunic was sleeveless so as not to impair his arms. His leggings were loose fitting and tucked in, below the knee, to thin leather boots that were wrapped tightly in cloth from ankle to knee. He was as tall as Adrian but his frame looked to be chiseled from stone.

  Just the fact that he wore no armor told Adrian that this one was not to be taken lightly. He had heard of men like this before, men that trained their entire lives, making their bodies into lethal weapons.

  Adrian allowed himself to grin. If this fool thought he was a match for an assassin, he was making a grave mistake. Assassins were trained to take a life with deadly proficiency. His body was a lethal weapon as well. He had been training from a young age, in nothing other than the art of killing.

  He started walking toward the man in the chair slowly, taking the path around the table to the right so as to set up his left hand for a throw. He had a small knife inside his left handed black leather gauntlet, and with a small unnoticeable twitch of his wrist, he could drop it into his waiting hand and in a blink, launch it at a target with pinpoint accuracy.

 

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